planned, was that he was actually going to do it.
Yesterday, when he decided it was going to be
the most important day, it was different. Things
were off. Whitney’s voice hadn’t been as strong
on his drive, he couldn’t find a parking spot close
enough for the day, and his boss never left his
office-or the glass castle-as Percy liked to call it.
Today, though. Today would be different. This
day, when he quit, he would make an exit. No
one really paid attention to him. No one knew
when he came or when he left. No one knew
what he liked to eat for lunch or what his favorite football team was. When there were birthday
outings, as there were for each staff member’s
birthday, no one acknowledged his. There were
ten people in his department. Each person chose
a place to eat, all expenses paid by his company.
Percy’s was the only birthday unnoticed. He never
had on-site parking, and he even had to use the
guest WiFi. He wasn’t even on their company’s
own WiFi after five years. This would be reason
enough to leave.
His temperature rose. He could feel his heart
beat faster. He had to regain composure. He
wanted to leave looking fresh in their minds.
Then they’d all know what Whitney knew. Then
they’d be sorry for ignoring someone so calm and
cool. Whitney knew. His biggest regret is that she
wouldn’t see this and that none of these people
had ever even asked about her.
Percy felt his muscles contract and his fists
squeeze in a rhythmic motion. He could feel the
vein in his temple throb. He had the same picture
of Whitney and him at the ice skating rink on
his desk for the last five years. It was the firs t year
of his employment here that he lost her, but he
kept the picture up as if it were present day. As
if she would still hold him up if he were falling
again. No one had so much as asked him who was
in his picture. It was his only picture. Front and
center. The first couple of years, he tried to move
it around on his desk. He’d rearrange, giving her
more of an opportunity to jump out at passersby,
but to no avail. Was that why he was quitting?
Was that silly? No. These were the thoughts of
doubt, right on cue. The ones Whitney warned
him about.
He glanced at his Garfield clock, and his eyes
followed the tail and eyes moving back and forth
for each second. The cat’s eyes held his gaze. He
was entranced by it. Garfield was counting on
Percy, too. Counting down to the moment he had
planned.
He took a sweeping glance around his office.
He saw two girls talking as usual. He saw Bill
across from him listening to his audio book. He
always wanted to ask him which books he liked.
Too late.
He composed an email to his boss. He would
wait for their last communication to be face-toface.
“Mr. Tillman, I would like to speak with you
about an urgent matter. Would you be able to
meet me at my desk at 11 am this morning for a
small meeting? Respectfully, Percy.”
The send button was throbbing. Pulsing as
though it begged to be clicked. This would be it.
Percy glanced up to Whitney and her face lit up
the frame. How he had loved her. All of her. He
loved her smell, her laugh, her hair, her crowded
smile as if her face struggled to make room for all
of her emotion. She would be proud on this very
important day. He would make her proud.
“Send.”
There it was. He gasped and began coughing.
The women looked up as he lost his control of
himself. Coughing like this would not do today. It
just wouldn’t. In the glass castle, he watched as his
boss began reading something on his computer.
He looked sideways and noticed that he and his
boss locked eyes awkwardly over each computer.
He received it. His boss’s glance snapped back
down, and Percy began to compose himself. To
get it all together before he left for good.
Percy spent a couple of hours moving his personal work files to his permanent jump drive and
cleared all proof of his existence away from the
computer. Garfield looked at him, warning him
that it was 10:45. He adjusted Whitney’s picture
just so. He would not forget it. But he couldn’t
put it in his bag yet. She had to see this.
At 10:50, he noticed the doors to the glass castle shake a bit. This was highly unusual. It wasn’t
lunch time. It wasn’t 11 yet. This was too soon.
Mr. Tillman would have to walk down three stairs
and make about 45 foot steps to get to Percy’s
desk; he had to calm his heart. He was ready for
an 11 o’clock meeting. Not a 10:50 sneak attack.
It was now or never. Garfield’s second hand was
moving too fast. Percy felt light-headed; he had to
focus.
He heard the steady cadence of footsteps gradu-